March 2012
At the library, looking at clothes on ebay instead of writing my essay. Goodbye, degree...
My perfume sounds racist.
Zara woman’s “white” EDT. It smells so nice though!
Ridiculous dream.
I just woke up from a nap. I dreamt that I had a baby and it had a tiny ear on his left cheek and a button growing out of the left side of his chin. I was wondering around holding him in a blanket in the dark around the westgate tower. The roads surrounding it weren’t there, there was just this evil sea crashing around everywhere.
It was fucking terrifying.
Play
Sometimes you see things on the internet and you are forever traumatised.
I really hate applying for jobs.
Especially at supermarkets where they make you fill in this long-ass form and then either tell you that you are not suitable or that they will be in touch “shortly” (then tell you after a month that actually they don’t want you after all).
This bloody process made me want to cry before. Now I just feel flat and dejected.
I’m not even good enough to scan some bloody food, ffs.
>writing essay
>think I’ve made a really cleaver point
>look up definition
>turns out I just sound like a moron
>FUUUUUUUUU-
Well that was a stupendous waste of a day.
My room looks different and now I can look out of the window as I work- but my essay still isn’t done.
FUUUUUCK.
I just woke up.
fuckfuckfuck
3 minutes into this call
and mother is screaming at me already. Skype decides to cut her off. It does not look good. She’s angry because she thinks that uni should be closed the week before Easter Sunday. I really can’t change the fact that it isn’t.
She’s also angry because I told her I was coming back on the 21st March- what actually happened was that my brother asked if I was coming back on that date and I just said yesyes to get him to shut up.
I haven’t even told her about my rent/deposit disaster. One of the neighbours suspects that the letters we have been getting might not be legit because we haven’t seen the will, etc. I just won’t tell her anything today. Maybe ever.
And I keep laughing every time I look at her face. She just looks furious. I can’t help it. And then she started saying that she’s going to “take me out of uni” for ~lying~ to her [about having deadlines/when uni ends]. I am on the verge of hysteria. I really can’t deal with her fuckery right now.
No, mother, I don’t want to talk to you or tell you things because your favourite pass time seems to involve shouting at me and blaming me for every tiny thing that may go wrong. She makes me anxious and uneasy and frustrated and many other unpleasant things.
“So avoid using the word ‘very’ because it’s lazy. A man is not very tired, he is exhausted. Don’t use very sad, use morose. Language was invented for one reason, boys - to woo women - and, in that endeavor, laziness will not do.”
— Dead Poets Society, 1989 (via deadmendontwearplaid)
